


Entertainment

by ficbear



Series: Gunsel [4]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Anal Sex, Deception, Drunk Sex, Group Sex, M/M, Oral Sex, Organized Crime, Prostitution, Rentboys, Roleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-18
Updated: 2012-12-18
Packaged: 2017-11-21 10:47:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/596844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ficbear/pseuds/ficbear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He looks even better in the flesh than in the photo they gave me. Tall and fair, maybe ten years older than me, with a face like a matinee idol and a suit that must have cost more than my whole wardrobe put together. Looking at him, I can't help but be thankful the boss picked this guy for a target. Hell, I'd probably do this for free.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Entertainment

I stand there with my hands in my pockets, trying to ignore the little voice in my head telling me to make a break for it before someone answers the door. I don't normally get nervous, not the kind of nervous that makes you turn tail and run, but there's something about this job that makes me feel like a kid on his first day of school. I've done worse than this for the boss before. I've done plenty of shaking people down and shutting people up, and god knows how many times he's lent me to some business associate over the last few months, but that was all one-on-one, and this is so far from one-on-one that I might as well be getting up on stage.

The door opens before I've got time to bolt, so I give my name to the guy that answers it and follow him into the suite, trying to act like this is all perfectly run-of-the-mill for me. _You've worked groups before, right?_ The voice on the other end of the phone last night had sounded so matter of fact, like it wasn't even really a question. _Sure_ , I'd answered, lying through my teeth. There's no way I'm going to turn down an important job, even if I don't strictly meet the entry requirements. And anyway, how hard can it be?

The place is full of boys. Really. Like it's a class reunion for the local Home for Wayward Young Men. Clothes all over the place too, so I'm guessing this suite is just a glorified dressing room, and the main event is in one of the other rooms. I stand there like an idiot for a moment, watching the boys around me getting dressed and undressed, and to be honest I've completely forgotten what I'm supposed to be there for when one of them turns around and gives me the biggest grin I've ever seen.

"Ooh, you’re new," he says, coming up close and putting an arm around my waist, "and cute, too."

I get the impression that the _new_ bit is a whole lot more important than the _cute_ bit, but it's flattering anyway, so I let him lead me off into a side-room. "Come on," he says, looking over his shoulder at me, all young and blond and irresistible. "Let's get you something to wear."

But as soon as the door closes behind us, he seems to forget all about the idea of clothes, except for the sudden compulsion to tear mine off. He's got my shirt half-unbuttoned and one arm around my neck before I know what's hit me, and when he pulls my head down into a kiss I have to force myself not to laugh. I didn't think it was possible for a boy to go faster than I do, but apparently I was wrong. Really, really wrong. So I give him a bit of tongue and let my hands drift down to his ass, cupping and squeezing it just roughly enough to let him know I'm enjoying the attention.

"You need warming up a bit before the action starts," he says, breathy and hot against my cheek. "But I'll take care of you, don't worry."

He shoves his free hand down the front of my jeans, straight for the kill, no messing around, and he almost purrs with pleasure when his fingers wrap around my cock. He gives it a couple of strokes, then drops to his knees and starts tugging my jeans down, and that's when I realise there's something a bit off about how urgent he's being with all this. And I'm not the only one who's realised it. His lips are just brushing the head of my cock, when the door opens behind him, and one of the other boys sticks his head in.

"Oh, for christ's sake, Terry…" This new boy says, as if he's just caught his dog mounting the neighbour's pedigree. "Stop messing around, go and finish getting changed, it's nearly nine o'clock."

I look down at Terry, and his expression turns from hot to cold in about two seconds flat.

"Fine." Terry says, getting to his feet and giving me a frosty glare. "I was bored, anyway."

He pushes past the other boy, and I can hear another door slam in the distance.

"Sorry about that." My rescuer gives me a kind of queasy smile. "He doesn't take kindly to new additions. Likes to tire them out before they reach the starting line, so to speak. So they don't steal any of his precious limelight."

"Nice of him." I start fastening my jeans again, picturing exactly how easily I could put this Terry in his place if this was a quick-and-dirty job instead of a quiet-and-subtle one. I don't think I'm cut out for quiet-and-subtle. "How come he's still in work, then, if he's got that kind of attitude?"

"Oh, the same way anyone gets a job they're not really fit for." His tone gets a bit chilly, and suddenly I feel like Terry's not the only one who's got a problem with me. "Connections. You know, like yours."

 

* * *

 

Somehow I manage to get into a fresh set of clothes without anyone trying to seduce me or fight me, and I'm ready just in time to be herded along with other boys into the suite across the hall. All the nerves I felt an hour ago are gone, and now I'm feeling pretty good, like I've got the situation completely under control. All I've got to do is find my mark and get friendly with him, get him hooked enough that he'll ask for me again next time, and that's it. Easy.

The men in the room are busy talking as we file in, but the conversation goes dead straight away, so it seems like they know better than to trust us to keep our mouths shut. But there are a few boys already there when the rest of us arrive, and _that_ gets my interest. My contact said some of these guys bring their own kept boys along, and it looks like these little pets are allowed to sit in while their owners are talking shop. So maybe if I make nice with a few of them, I can get them to spill something useful. And if not, well, they're all easy on the eyes, so at least I'll have fun trying.

I give those boys a nice, warm smile, and look around for my mark. He's easy to spot, and luckily for me he's not one of the guys with a boy already draped over him. He looks even better in the flesh than in the photo they gave me. Tall and fair, maybe ten years older than me, with a face like a matinee idol and a suit that must have cost more than my whole wardrobe put together. Looking at him, I can't help but be thankful the boss picked this guy for a target. Hell, I'd probably do this for free.

So I stay where I am, and wait for him to notice me, just like I've been ordered to. _He'll ask you to join him, don't make a move before then._ The orders were very clear about that, and when I asked what I was supposed to do if he didn't notice me, my contact had laughed like a drain. _Oh, he'll notice you alright, you're just his type. Dark-haired, not too young, and rough around the edges._ I'm not sure whether that was supposed to reassure me or insult me. Probably a little of both.

It doesn't take him long to spot me, so my contact was right about that, at least. That smile just gets bigger when he sees me, and I give him the same right back. He waves me over and pats the seat next to him. I make my way over to him and sit down, with my pulse racing like I'm some nervous teenager, trying to figure out what the hell I'm actually going to say. It's so much easier when no-one expects more than a couple of words from you, but now that I've got to turn on the charm, I'm completely out of my depth. And he knows it.

"You looked lonely over there," he says, and his voice is like honey. "So I thought you could keep me company."

"Thanks," I say, giving him more of a sheepish smile this time. I might be here to con him, but I figure a bit of honesty will work in my favour right now. "I've never worked this kind of party before, not my scene."

He raises an eyebrow. "Is that right? What’s your scene, then?"

I shrug. "Oh, I don't know, on my knees in an alley, back of a detective's car, that kind of thing."

And if he looked interested before, now he's got a smile on his face like he's just struck gold. He puts his hand on the small of my back, and I can feel the warmth of it through my jacket and shirt. "My name's Hays, by the way. What's yours?"

There'd be no harm in giving my real name, it's not like I'm anyone worth knowing, but I can't resist the urge to give him a fake one instead. "Joe," I say, before I realise what I'm doing, and the thought of the real Joe getting word of this gives me a shiver that's about half fear and half excitement.

"Well, Joe, don't let all this make you nervous." Hays gives me that warm smile again, the one that feels like sunlight on your face. "I'm sure you'll do just fine."

It's nice of him to say, even if he doesn't mean it, but the thing is that I really _don't_ know what I'm supposed to be doing, and I'm not sure how far the keen-but-clueless thing is going to get me tonight. So I look around at the other boys, trying to figure out how they're playing this. Of course my eyes go straight to Terry, because I'm not going to forget about _him_ anytime soon, and it doesn't surprise me much to find him sitting on some old guy's knee and blushing bright red as if he's a bashful virgin. I'm impressed with his versatility, but the innocent act isn't going to work for me, so I keep looking. Another couple of boys are flanking the guy on the big sofa opposite us, giving each other hot looks while they talk, and he's got an arm around each of them, looking like he just won the lottery. But I can’t hear a word they're saying, it's all whispers and giggles, so as nice as it is to watch, it's no use to me at all.

So I turn back to my guy, and the pathetic thing is that I really am grateful when he gives me something to do.

"Why don't you go and get us both some drinks?" He says, stroking my back again.

I nod, trying not to let too much of my relief show. "Sure, what are you having?"

"Let's have a nice red. The one with the yellow label."

I'm starting to lose my confidence despite all this guy's reassurances, but I shrug it off and go over to the bar, trying to keep my mind fixed on why I'm here. On _who_ I'm here for. The boss sent me here for a reason, and he wouldn't send me on a job I couldn't do. So I pour out a glass of the stuff with the yellow label, and then another glass for me, and make my way back over to where Hays is sitting.

Only when I get there, I find Terry lounging on the sofa next to him, whispering something in his ear. Now, I know better than to cause a scene, but I'm not having some prima donna muscling in on my territory, so I set the drinks down on the table and put one hand on Terry's shoulder. "You're in my spot," I say, under my breath, just loud enough for both of them to hear. I give Terry's shoulder a little squeeze, too. Not enough to hurt him, but enough to let him know I mean business. "Shove off."

Terry doesn't even look at me as he stands up. "Maybe next time, then, Mr Hays," he says, shrugging off my hand and giving the guy a little wave as he turns to go.

I sit down again, and Hays slips his arm around my waist right away..

"You're the possessive type, are you?" He gives me a broad smile, and I get the idea that he would've enjoyed seeing me lay Terry out, if it wouldn't have gotten me escorted off the premises. If this works out and he takes a shine to me, maybe I should suggest he brings along another bit of rough one time, so I can put on a little demonstration and show him what I can do when the gloves are off. Then I'd really be living up to this fake name.

"Guess so." I pick up my glass, and knock the whole lot back in one go. He likes that, and I think he probably wouldn't have minded if I'd swigged the stuff straight from the bottle. It seems like the less I try to fit in with these nice boys around me, the more Hays gets a kick out of it, so I set my glass back down, I bring a hand up to my tie and start loosening it. "Mind if I take this off?" I ask, but I've already slung the tie over the back of the chair and started unfastening the first few buttons of my shirt when he replies.

"Not at all," he says, giving me that golden smile again. "It'd be a shame to keep a boy like you all covered up."

I laugh, and decide to take off my jacket too, to see if he'll like me in my shirtsleeves even more than he does in this nice suit. By the look he gives me, I was right on target, and I can feel his eyes on me, running over the exposed skin of my throat and chest. I undo another button, and those light eyes track every movement of my hand, drinking in every inch of newly-bared skin. If he keeps looking at me like this, I'll be naked in no time.

Hays takes out a packet of cigarettes and holds one between his lips, waiting for me to light it. I figure he'll enjoy a bit of cheek, so I swipe the cigarette and light it in my own mouth, then take a couple of drags on it for good measure before I hand it back. If I pulled that move on the boss he'd knock me into next week, but Hays just laughs.

"You know, I usually get a bit bored at these functions." He takes another drag on his cigarette, and I can feel his eyes burning into me like he's holding the lit end to my skin. "It's nice to meet someone here who's more of a Patroclus than a Ganymede."

It's a flattering line, but it's also not one the rough-around-the-edges type should understand, so I play dumb and give him a blank smile. I'm not sure if he buys that I don't get it, because he just looks at me like he's trying to see right through me, and who knows how successful he's been. But either way he seems to like it, and that hand on my back gets a little bit firmer, a little bit warmer and a little bit further south.

All of a sudden there's a squeal of surprise behind me, pretty obviously put-on and meant to get attention, but I glance over my shoulder anyway to see what all the fuss is about. Half of the old guys have already sloped off to private rooms with their boys at this point, and that leaves just the ones who prefer an audience, like my new friend Hays, and like the guy who's got Terry bent over one of those big leather armchairs with his trousers down, showing off that nice ass for everyone to see. And that seems to be the cue everyone's been waiting for, because all the quiet flirting and groping going on around me bursts into life, and pretty soon Terry isn't the only one with his face down and his ass in the air.

Hays pushes me down off the sofa and onto the floor at his feet, gently enough that I don’t even bruise my knees on the way down. I haven't had it this easy for a long time, and to be honest I'm not really sure what to do with myself if I'm not being manhandled and smacked around, but I do my best to give Hays what he wants. He lets me take the lead at first, just watching while I work his fly undone, and when I get my hands on his cock, he leans back and gives a little groan like he's enjoying a massage. I can smell cologne on his skin, smoky and dark like those cigarettes, and it works on me better than I'd like to admit. I keep my hands on him, circled around the base of his cock as I suck on it, but I'm getting harder and harder the longer I spend on my knees like this, and I know eventually I'll be too turned on to resist. Hays probably wouldn't even mind me touching myself without permission, but I guess the boss has trained me too well, because I find myself trying to hold out anyway.

It feels weird, being allowed to do so much of the work while Hays just leans back and lets me get on with it. I can't remember the last time I gave head without getting my throat battered raw, and somehow the difference puts me off-kilter. But having an audience while I do my thing is worth the change of pace, and knowing that there's a room full of other guys who could be watching me is turning me on like nothing else has all night. Who knows, there could even be one of the boss's men watching, keeping an eye on me to make sure I do the job right. It's not like he's never had me watched before. And the thought of _that_ near enough pushes me over the edge, so I slip a hand down and give myself a little attention while I work, imagining that there really is one of the boss's lackeys watching me pawing at myself through the fabric of my trousers, taking note of every move I make to report it back to the old man.

"You're missing quite a sight." Hays breaks my concentration, and I look up, following his eyes across to the coffee table on the other side of the room. The boy who saved me from Terry is spread out across it, with one guy kneeling between his legs and another kneeling by his head, getting nailed in both ends, taking it hard enough that I can almost feel it myself all the way over here. As I watch, another boy crawls over and leans across the table, licking what he can reach of the first boy's cock. Hays was right, it's a hell of a scene, and if I was in this for myself I'd be over there like a shot. As it is, I look up at Hays and give him a hopeful smile. "You want me to join in?"

"No, not tonight." He says, bringing his hand down to my chin and rubbing one fingertip along the edge of my mouth. "Tonight, I want you all to myself."

"Fair enough." I keep on smiling. It's his choice, but I can't help wondering how much more fun this would be if I was entertaining the boss right now instead of him. I'd probably be the one spread out on the table, not watching from the sidelines. But that kind of thinking isn't going to get me anywhere.

"Come on," he says, pushing me back gently with one hand, and setting his drink down with the other. "Let's go somewhere more private."

I force myself to snap out of it, and give him a hungry smile, nodding towards the fire escape door. "How about out there?"

Hays laughs, but he's already on his feet and fastening his trousers. "You can take the boy out of the street, but you can't take the street out of the boy, is that right?"

"Guilty as charged." I say, putting my hands up.

"Alright, then." He slips his arm around my waist, and leads me out through the fire escape door and onto the landing outside.

As soon as the door closes behind him, he grabs hold of me and pulls me into a kiss, and this is no amateur clinch like the one Terry treated me to earlier on, this is the real deal and it takes my breath away. Tasting himself on my tongue seems to really fire Hays up, and his hands are kneading my ass before I've had time to let my own hands get to work. I rub at him through his trousers, pulling away from the kiss enough to get a few words out. "Been thinking about this since that first drink…" I murmur, unfastening his trousers with one hand and shoving the other one down to take hold of his cock again. "About how good it's going to feel when you give it to me."

He turns me around, holding me in place by the shoulders and letting me feel the heat of his cock pressing against me, and I push back against him hard enough to back him right up to the wall, grinding against him like I'm trying to bring him off through sheer friction. But that's not going to be enough for him, and it damn well isn't enough for me, so I unfasten my own trousers and let them fall to the floor as I bend over, grabbing the railing with both hands. "Lube's in my pocket," I say, letting him get a good look at my ass while I wait.

"No need." Hays gives me that perfect smile again, and takes a little bottle out of his jacket pocket.

I watch as he slicks the lube over his cock, and I can't help fidgeting impatiently while I'm waiting, spreading my legs a little further and arching my back to push my ass a little closer to him.

"Be patient," he laughs, lubing my ass up slowly enough that I feel like grabbing the bottle out of his hand and doing it myself. "You'll get what you want, just you wait."

Thankfully he's not the type that enjoys keeping a boy frustrated, and before I can open my mouth to complain again he's already pushing into my ass, gripping my waist with both hands and holding me still while he feeds his cock into me. It feels like I haven't been fucked for days, and right now I'd do anything Hays asked, just for another minute of being nailed like this.

"You like that, do you?" He ups his pace, fucking me hard and fast now, no messing about.

"Love it…" I groan, pushing back against him so that his hips slam against my ass hard enough that the guys indoors can probably hear it. "Just like that, don't stop…"

And I know I'm in no position to be making demands, but I can't help myself, and the words just spill out of my mouth like I'm too drunk to control them. Maybe he thinks I'm just telling him what he wants to hear, or maybe he gets a kick out of paying for a boy who'd so obviously do it for free. Either way, Hays seems to like it, so I let my tongue do whatever it wants. "Harder, you won't break me…" I say, gripping the railing tightly in both hands like I'm trying to wrench it free. "Come on, give it to me."

Hays just laughs, and reaches around underneath me. His hand curls around the shaft of my cock, and I buck my hips like he's just shot a lightning bolt right through me, thrusting forward into his fist as hard as I can while he fucks me. He seems to know just how to touch me, or maybe he's just more interested in making it good for me than the type of guy I usually get fucked by, but either way he's got me groaning and squirming in his grip without even trying. "You like that even more, don't you?" He laughs again, tightening his grip enough to get another frantic jerk of my hips. "Go ahead and come whenever you feel like it."

No denial, no taunts, no warnings to keep myself in check until he's done. I don't really know what to do with that, so I decide to just keep it together until Hays is close to finishing himself. But my plans don't seem to mean a thing to the hand busily working over my cock, because the tension builds up like a spring being coiled tighter and tighter every second, and there's nothing I can do about it. I come hard, fucking his fist like I'm hammering into one of those pretty boys indoors, and the only thing better than the feeling of his hand around me is the feeling of his cock slamming into my ass just as hard.

"That's right," Hays murmurs, like he's praising an obedient pet, and I can tell he's not far off himself, so maybe I did get my way after all. His hands run over my back, slipping under my shirt to stroke against the skin, and I wonder if he can feel the little scars I still have on the back of my ribs. I wonder if he'd like them. And I think the answer's a yes, because it doesn't take long at all after that before he's digging his nails into my shoulders and pounding into my ass with a whole lot more power and a whole lot less grace than I'm expecting. It's violent enough to drive a few yelps from me, and I can't help smirking to myself. Maybe a bit of my roughness has rubbed off on him.

He stays still for a moment once he's done, just holding onto me while he catches his breath. When he does pull out, it's slow and gentle, with one hand braced on my back to hold me still. It’s a nice thought, but I can't help feeling like he thinks I'm more delicate than I am, so I pull away and start getting dressed again straight away. I don't know what kind of fragile little confections he normally fucks at these parties, but I'm made of sterner stuff than that and I want to leave him in no doubt about it. So I give him a look and a smile that's maybe a bit cockier than it really should be, holding his gaze while I fasten my shirt.

He smiles at me, and I can tell he's not buying my bravado for a minute. He rests his hand on my shoulder, and gives it a firm squeeze. "Enjoy the rest of your night, then, Joe." He says, opening the fire escape door. "You've certainly earned it."

I stay out there for maybe ten minutes after he leaves, just watching the clouds crawl by, grey and streetlight-orange against the black of the night sky. I've gotten close to my mark, and he seems like he might ask for me again, so maybe I've done enough this time to please the boss. Or maybe I played it too rough, too cheap, and Hays forgot about me the minute he walked away. Maybe I've wasted this opportunity altogether. Who knows.

I try to shake off those doubts, and head back through the main room, picking my way through the couples and groups still going at it until I've made it out into the hallway. The dressing room is empty when I get there, and I'm kind of thankful for that, because right now I really don't feel like fending off another bitchy kid who fancies a fight. It takes me a minute to find the clothes I brought with me, and then another minute to realise that the bottle on the table next to them, the nice big bottle of that wine with the yellow label, is meant for me. There's a little card next to it, and when I pick it up and turn it over, I see it's got a phone number scrawled on the back in big, showy handwriting. So I guess I didn't do so badly after all.

 

* * *

 

"I should call the police," he says, twisting my arm up behind my back and fucking me a little harder. "But I can't resist teaching you a lesson myself."

Hays' wallet is on the desk, a couple of inches away from my face, where he threw it once I'd finally let him snatch the thing out of my hand. It's only a bit of roleplay, a silly game to amuse him, but I can't help feeling sorry for him, because if I wanted to I could get out from under his grip without even trying. If he ever does go up against a thieving renter, he's got exactly no chance at all of putting them in their place. But he's loving this, so I stay in position, and I struggle just enough to make him feel like he really is subduing me.

To be honest, when he first suggested this game I thought it was just a roundabout way of saying he'd rumbled me, but if he does really know what I'm up to then he's being surprisingly laidback about it. So maybe it's his way of saying he knows I could clean him out if I wanted to. Or maybe it's just those two bottles of wine he's already worked his way through tonight, going to his head and giving him funny ideas. Whatever it is, he seems to be getting a kick out of all this, so I play along and hope he doesn't notice me taking a good long look at the thing I really _am_ here to steal.

"Yeah? Well, you know where you can stick your lesson?" I grin at him over my shoulder, wriggling a bit more in his grip. It provokes him just as much as I was hoping, and he gives me another hard thrust, hard enough to make this big old desk creak under the force of it.

"Shut up and take it, you little bitch," he hisses, and _that_ definitely is the drink talking, because he's never said anything like that to me before. So maybe I should have been plying him with booze from day one. Or maybe not, since it looks like the wine has given him a hair-trigger as well as a short temper. Another couple of thrusts and he's grinding me down against the desk, digging his nails into my wrist as he comes. When he's done, he leans against me for a minute, catching his breath, and I stay still until he's pushed himself upright and pulled out, waiting to see what he'll do next.

"I'd better go and clean up," he says, making his way to the door unsteadily and with a lot less grace than usual. "Wait for me in the lounge, your money's in there."

And then he's gone, and I'm on my own in his office, looking right at the thing I've been trying to get my hands on for months. Hays has brought me here before, he's even fucked me over this desk a few times, but he's never left me alone, and I can see why. I reckon there's probably enough valuable objects and information tucked away in this room to keep me in pocket money for months, maybe years. And not too long ago, I would've taken everything I could fit in my pockets. But the boss was very, very clear about the instructions for this job, and Joe was very, very clear with his fists while he checked to make sure I'd understood every word the boss said. _Just the letter-opener. Nothing else._

So I pick it up and inspect it, as if I'm going to figure out what's so special about it just by staring at the thing, but up close it still just looks like any other letter-opener to me. A bit fancy, maybe, but there are plenty of items in here that I know would fetch a higher price. I don't know what the boss is thinking. Why have me spend all this time getting close to Hays, rich and well-connected Hays, just to steal some stupid knickknack? But then, I never really know what the boss is thinking, and I guess that's why he's the boss and I'm just one of his boys. So I slip the thing into my jacket pocket, leave everything else on the desk untouched, and make my way to the lounge so I can collect my money and say goodnight to Hays for the last time.

 

* * *

 

It's probably not the smartest thing I've ever done, and I know I'm practically begging to have the curiosity beaten out of me, but it's been months now and I can't resist. "So," I say, glancing across at Joe. "I've got to know, what's the deal with the Hays job? Why did the boss want that thing so badly?"

Joe stares out of the car window for a moment or two, and when he turns to look at me I get the impression he's thinking about opening the passenger door and throwing me out onto the road. But then a smirk cracks through the frown he usually gives me, and he does one of those short, nasty laughs of his. I think it's the first time I've heard Joe laugh at something that wasn't me.

"Just the boss's way of letting him know that having money doesn't make him untouchable. So their business relationship gets off to a smooth start." Joe laughs again, and for the second time this week I feel sorry for Hays. "You should have seen the guy's face when he walked into the boss's office and saw his favourite heirloom sitting right there on the desk. Priceless, absolutely priceless."

I can picture it alright, and I laugh along with Joe, although I'm careful to quieten down the minute he seems like he's lost interest in the topic. But in the back of my mind I'm thinking, wouldn't it have been nice if I _had_ been there to see it first-hand? Wouldn't it be nice if I got to see the pay-off for this kind of long game, like Joe does? So I keep quiet for the rest of the journey, staring out of the window, trying to figure out my next move. Because one way or another, I'm going to get myself a promotion.


End file.
